


After the Storm

by Trudy



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Iron Man 3, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Tony Stark & Thor Friendship, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 17:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18554209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trudy/pseuds/Trudy
Summary: Two months after the Battle of Greenwich and Tony's surgery, the Man of Iron and God of Thunder reunite at the Avengers facility and take a much-deserved day off.Addresses events of Iron Man 3 and Thor: The Dark World.





	After the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Soroka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soroka/gifts).



> For Soroka, who is Thor's gift to this fandom.

It's the smell that draws Tony away from his workshop. The air is filled with the smell of spices he can put to word with just a whiff cardamom, turmeric, cinnamon. Was that mustard seed, too? Tony's pretty sure that it is.

It has been awhile since anyone has stayed at the facility. Tony felt like the foster father to a pack of strays. The Avengers come and go as they please, wandering in and out of the facility at their leisure.

Most of them, though, didn't cook. They didn’t hum either. 

Tony hears Thor before he sees him. When Tony stops in the doorway, he watches as Thor hums tunelessly and stirs the contents of a cast iron pot, unaware of the new presence lurking behind him. Tony doesn't make a sound; he just listens to Thor as he hums, ears straining to remember the name of a song that sounds annoyingly familiar. It takes just a few more notes for Tony to place it: Moanin'. It was no AC/DC or Black Sabbath, but still, he knew it. On the rare evenings his father was home, Howard Stark would place one of his old jazz records on the turntable, sink into the plush red armchair in their parlor, and wordlessly drink glass after glass of whiskey.

At least on the nights when Tony was lucky.

Tony didn't particularly like jazz for that reason. He didn't like most things he associated with his father. As much as he loved music, jazz was one of the few genres Tony refused to enjoy.

Usually, anyway. But listening to Thor hum pleasantly to himself, Tony found himself rethinking his stance.

"Didn't know the gods enjoyed Art Blakely." Thor spins around, stirring spoon in hand. He's wearing blue jeans and a red flannel shirt. Tony briefly wonders if Jane picked it out. He couldn't imagine Thor plucking it off the rack at the local Old Navy. "Frankly, thought you'd be a heavy metal sort of guy, with the hair and everything." Tony gestures to his own considerably shorter hair. "Seems more your style."

"Stark!" Thor's expression is every bit as bright as he remembered, and Tony finds himself feeling unexpectedly pleased by his reaction. Thor sets the spoon down onto the spoon rest and immediately closes the space between them. Thor throws his arms around Tony -- so tightly that the wind is knocked right out of him.

Tony lets out a pained little noise and Thor immediately lets go. It takes another long few moments for Tony to catch his breath enough to finally speak. 

"Welcome back, Brawny." Tony gives Thor a casual pat on the side of the arm. 

Thor doesn't question this new nickname. Tony doesn't know if it's because he doesn't mind it or because he actually gets the reference. To the best of his knowledge, Thor's been off-world for since the London incident and that was two months ago. Tony can't remember with absolute accuracy how long it's been since he last saw the God of Thunder, but it was definitely sometime before that.

Thor was a hard guy to keep tabs on. Tony's only real point of contact for any Thor-related matters was Dr. Foster, and at any given moment, it was 50/50 on whether or not she knew his whereabouts. Thor's frequent disappearances clearly frustrated her, so Tony avoided making calls to her as much as possible; he was pretty sure he was just kicking the hornet's nest, which in turn probably didn't make life any easier for Thor when he finally resurfaced on Earth.

"Have you been well, Stark?"

"Depends on your definition of _well_." Tony peers into the pot. Curry, definitely curry. Carrots and potatoes and chunks of meat bob like glaciers in a thick brown sea. "I didn't know you could cook." He looks over at Thor appraisingly, more interested in Thor's reaction to his assessment than he is his actual answer.

"Jane," he replies, beaming. "She isn't much of one. I wasn't either, until I came down to Earth."

Tony looks at the neat bottles of spices sitting on the kitchen counter, lined up like toy soldiers readied for battle. "You weren't either," Tony repeats slowly, smacking his lips with that one final syllable. He hadn't meant to imply anything with his choice of words; he was simply saying something to fill the silence between them.

Thor had clearly taken it to be a question.

"I was crown prince of Asgard, you know," Thor says, as though this explains everything. It explains very little. Instead, it just raises more questions.

" _Was_?" Tony repeats. He was beginning to feel a little like a parrot, but there always seemed to be _something_ Thor said that Tony could easily latch onto. Maybe other people wouldn't catch how Thor so smoothly swapped tenses from _am_ to _was_ , but Tony was annoyingly detail-oriented. Some would probably say it was part of what made him a great inventor. His psychologist -- if he had one -- would probably say he had anxiety.

"Are you hungry, Stark?" Thor's lack of an answer doesn't go unnoticed, either. "There's plenty for the both of us."

Tony had seen Thor eat before and seriously doubted Thor was being honest. Still, he wasn't going to turn down an opportunity to catch up with him, least of all when Thor was liable to disappear for a few more months at a moment's notice.

"Sure."

\--

Thor was a better cook than Thor ever would have given him credit for; the potatoes were firm but soft, the carrots still retained a bit of their crunch, the curry itself was that perfect, not-too-thick, not-too-thin consistency. Thor had used a veritable menagerie of spices, which could have easily lent itself to a clash of flavors, but one spice blended seamlessly into another. 

In a single word, it was _perfect_.

With irritation, Tony mentally added _cooking_ to Thor’s list of talents and abilities. It seemed unfair, somehow, that one person could be so good at so many different things. True, Thor had plenty more time to broaden his skillset than your average human, but Thor seemed a little too perfect and it was hard not to feel annoyed by it.

"Like a literal Prince Charming," he grumbles.

"Mm?" Thor looks up from his bowl of curry, which he's devoured with such gusto that only a few spoonfuls still remain at its bottom.

"Nothing," Tony says, and he reaches out with a thumb to brush away a splash of curry from the side of Thor’s face. "They teach you manners in Asgard?"

"Of course, in fact--"

Tony holds up a hand. "It was a rhetorical question, Point Break."

Tony watches as Thor wipes his mouth with his napkin.

"You said you weren't well, Stark?"

"Technically, I didn't."

"It seemed as though it was implied."

Tony doesn't feel particularly inclined to talk about his life. He takes a bite of his curry and tries to think of some way to deflect. Maybe it's the fatigue that he's felt ever since the surgery, but he can't seem to come up with a good excuse. "Just another terrorist with a vendetta against yours truly," he says casually, as if it were no big deal. It certainly was at the time. "Pepper in danger. Had surgery." Tony resists the urge to tap his chest -- an old habit from when he still had the arc reactor embedded there. He's not sure he'll ever get used to not doing that. "Probably shouldn't be eating this stuff." He gestures to the bowl with his spoon. "Spicy food was definitely on the ban list."

Tony had barely gotten the words out before Thor opened his mouth to speak. "How long will it take you to recover?" 

"Give me another four weeks and I'll be good as new." That's what the doctors told him, anyway, and Tony was inclined to agree with their prognosis; one of the major benefits of coming from money meant he had plenty of cash to spend when the situation required it -- and this definitely required it. 

Thor does not look entirely convinced. "The House of Odin has the finest healers that all of Asgard has to offer," he says.

Tony cracks a smile. "Are you offering me access to your royal legion of doctors?"

"I am." Thor is so earnest that it's all Tony can do to suppress a snort of amusement. Thor really is something.

"I hate to deny the invitation, but the docs say I should avoid air travel as much as possible. I'm not sure they'd approve of me hopping off to other planets."

Thor gestures at Tony's dish. "You seem content to disobey those orders when convenient."

"This," he pronounces, repeating Thor's gesture. "Is a special exception."

"Travel via Bifrost is safe, so long as you don't fall off it."

That catches Tony off-guard. "You can fall off it?" 

"If you aren't careful, yes."

"What, do you just --" Tony gestures with his spoon again. "--fall off into space? Turn into an Asgardian Popsicle?"

"I haven't fallen off it to find out."

That's not a very satisfying answer, but Tony can't exactly press for answers to a question Thor doesn’t have. He takes a sip of his water, then eyes Thor as he takes another bite of his curry. Tony hasn’t exactly been looking or feeling his best since surgery, but when he takes a good look at the God of Thunder, her finds that Thor may have him matched. He’s not sure what to think of it, but he's not sure whether or not he wants to ask, either. Tony doesn't particularly like people butting into his business and he generally doesn't like butting into anyone else's. If they wanted to volunteer the information, they'd do so without a need for an interrogation. 

"Saw everything on the news about London," he says instead. "Would have flown in to help with that mess, but I was fresh out of surgery. Not sure I would have made it in time, anyway. Dark elves?"

"Dark elves," Thor confirms.

"Your life sounds absolutely wild, by the way," he says. "You think you can stop bringing the weird fantasy creepy-crawlies here to earth? Present company aside, I can't say I'm a fan of the aliens that keep showing up."

"It is not my intent to put the people of Earth in harm's way."

Tony lets out a sigh. "You _do_ have humor on Asgard, right? That's a thing there?" Tony pauses, but not long enough to give Thor a chance to answer. "I was just joking. Mostly. I don't think the people of Earth are likely to take kindly to alien visitors if the ones we get continue to be hostile."

"There are many space-faring species across the Nine Realms and beyond. It is unfortunate the people of Earth have not had the opportunity to make their acquaintance." 

"Like the light elves?" Tony quips.

Thor seems genuinely surprised by Tony's question. "Yes, but how did you...?" he asks, eyes narrowing.

Tony doesn't answer; it'd take too long to explain. "Where were you after the whole London thing?"

"There are other realms in need of my protection. As a prince of Asgard, it is my duty to ensure the safety of all of them."

Tony clicks his tongue. "I thought you said you weren't crown prince."

"I'm not. I rejected the throne."

Tony blinks at that. "You can do that?"

"My father was not in a position to stop me." 

A terrible thought suddenly crosses Tony's mind. "Your brother's not going to inherit the throne, is he?"

Thor smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his face. "Loki is dead."

Tony is caught off-guard by Thor's answer. He's not exactly sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't _my brother is dead_. Tony feels like he should say something, but he’s not exactly sure how to express his remorse even when the deceased isn't an evil megalomaniac who rained a bunch of evil alien creatures from a portal over New York City. As loathe as Tony was to admit it (and he only really admitted it to Pepper), that whole event had left him screwed up. Somewhere in the back of his mind, there was the fear that someday, something would happen and he would be in no position to stop it. That sense of helplessness has only grown since he made the promise to Pepper to hang up the suit for good. He has Loki to thank for that.

"Sorry to hear that." It comes out drier than Tony intended, but it's the best he can manage. 

"No need for apologies," Thor says, rising to his feet. He picks up his now-empty bowl by the rim. "Are you finished?" Thor nods at Tony's half-empty bowl.

"Yeah," Tony says; he suddenly doesn't feel like he has much of an appetite. When Thor reaches for the bowl and Tony swats the man's hand away. "I got it. I might be helpless, but I'm not _totally_ helpless."

Tony didn't intend for it to be funny, but somehow that's enough to draw a real smile from the Asgardian and Tony finds himself smiling slightly when he finally pushes himself out of his chair.

\--

Tony leans against the counter, arms folded over his chest. Thor is cleaning ( _cleaning!_ ) and Tony wonders how the God ever became so domesticated. He didn't exactly strike him as the homemaker type, and yet here he was, cooking curry from scratch and loading the dishwasher as if he were an ordinary human instead of a prince-god from another planet.  
Inevitably, that leads down another train of thought, where he finds himself wondering when his life got so weird, but then realizes that that probably happened around the time he had to build a suit out of a bunch of scraps to escape a clan of terrorists after a successful kidnapping. 

Things had only gotten progressively stranger since then. 

"How long are you going to be in town?"

"Just overnight." Thor rinses off the bowl and sticks it into the top rack. 

“And you're not staying with your girlfriend." It's a question, but when Tony says it, it comes out as a statement.

"She is at a conference delivering a speech on astrophysics."

"You didn't want to go?"

"I did not want to risk stealing her spotlight," he says. "Jane deserves far more recognition for her studies than she's gotten. My presence would just draw attention to our relationship and away from her work."

The thought had never occurred until now, but Thor definitely had a point. Was this sensitive man really the guy who headbutted him the first five minutes they met? Every time Thor seemed to do something, he found himself questioning how well he knew the man. He thought he had a decent grasp on Thor (aggressive, hard-headed, headstrong), but between the jazz and the cooking and the fact that he just loaded the dishwasher like a thoughtful husband, Tony was beginning to rethink his position again.

Tony pushes himself away from the counter and taps the screen of his smart watch a few times in close succession. A stream of light rises up in a cone above the watch, projecting a blue holographic calendar just above it. Light orange numbers -- dates -- nearly fade into the background. Navy lines of text highlighting the day's plans in a simple bullet format sit in the foreground. 

Tony frowns as he surveys his schedule. It had certainly freed up since his days as Stark Enterprise's CEO, and it had freed up even more after the surgery. Pepper insisted he spend less time working while he was recovering and he was hardly in a position to argue. He had been trying to be a better boyfriend to Pepper and that meant he needed to do a better job of considering her feelings. Tony was used to doing things his own way; he never really thought too hard about the needs of others until relatively recently. He knew now that it put a strain on his relationship with Pepper. Giving up the suit had been a big step, but he couldn't just prove things were going to change with one grand gesture. He needed to be dependably good; he needed to be dependently considerate of her feelings. His lighter schedule for twelve weeks post-op was just one of those smaller concessions: it was real and tangible proof that he wanted to be a better man to her than he had been. 

"JARVIS, clear my schedule," he says without hesitation. "Tell them I'm having _medical difficulties_." Another one of the benefits of surgery: he could get out of any undesirable situation by using his condition as an excuse.

"Certainly, sir." The neat lines of text in his calendar blocks vanished in a flash, leaving only the orange dates in their place.

Tony gave his watch one final tap and the hologram disappeared, too. "Good."

\--

"We really should get you some kind of disguise." 

"A disguise?"

Like the tower, the Avengers facility had a proper bar on-sight, albeit a self-staffed one. The bar table was made of sleek, gray marble that gently sloped out in a curve. A tall black shelf stood flush against the wall behind it, filled to capacity with glass bottles of various shapes and sizes and colors.

Tony stands behind the bar, filling two glasses with ice. He's been trying to cut back on his drinking (and he's been mostly succeeding), but he can't resist the opportunity to drink with the God of Thunder. The last time Clint was in town, he told him all about how Thor outdrank everyone in this little bar in the Middle-of-Nowhere, New Mexico and wound up dragging the Selvig guy home over his shoulder. 

Tony reaches for a tall, narrow bottle behind the counter and fills the glasses up. He's pretty sure that he won't be able to out-drink him (even with his Liver of Steel), but how often did anyone get to claim they drank with a God? 

He pushes one of the drinks to Thor, and then takes the other in hand. He watches as Thor sniffs the drink the way a dog might, and then in complete disregard to his initial hesitancy, down the drink in one go before Tony can take his first sip. 

Tony lets out a chuckle and offers Thor the bottle. Thor briefly hesitates, but then takes it and refills his glass. 

"I don't know if you've realized this, but the Avengers? We're very popular. Your hair and those arms? They're a dead giveaway."

"You aren't accustomed to the attention?"

Tony takes a sip of his drink. "It's less that I'm not accustomed to it and more that I'm not interested in it. The media has been all over me since I announced my retirement."

Thor's eyes narrow slightly. "From Stark Industries?" Clearly, he hadn't been on Earth when that happened. It was a complete media circus.

Tony should have known this was going to come up. He had been pretty ticked when he found out about the media leak, but it -- like the announcement of his surgery -- had some unintended advantages. For one, he didn't have to tell anyone that he was done being Iron Man. For two, because he didn't have to tell them, that announcement didn't immediately and predictably segue into the conversation of _why_. 

There were no such advantages now. Thor probably wasn’t watching Midgardian news from Asgard, least of all when he was off fighting Dark Elves or whatever other creatures gods fought in the deep recess of space. The conversation was inevitable; if it didn’t happen now, it was going to happen eventually.

"From being Iron Man," he says, hoping Thor would leave it at that.

No such luck, though. "Are you certain?"

_Are you certain?_ wasn't exactly the question he expected -- it was _Why?_ "Yeah," Tony says, though he's actually not certain at all. "Unlike you and Capsicle, I'm stuck with this very human, very destructible body. I'm not exactly young anymore."

Thor lets out a hum at that, and Tony's not exactly what to make of it until the God of Thunder finally speaks. "You've done well protecting Midgard in my stead. For humans, there is no shame in an early retirement."

Tony clicks his tongue. "For humans," he repeats irritably, twirling a finger in the air as he takes another sip of his drink. 

"I mean no disrespect," Thor says. "On Asgard, only warriors who die in battle are permitted entrance to Valhalla."

"And those that don't?"

"They go to Hel," he says. 

Tony makes a mental note to do some more reading on Norse mythology sometime. "So humans don't go to the same afterlife that Asgardians do?"

"I do not know," he says. "I'd like to think that they do. I'd like to see all of you again someday, after you've all departed."

For the first time since they met, it occurred to Tony that Thor was likely to outlive them all. It probably should have occurred to him before this moment, but death wasn't exactly something any of them talked about in any great detail. It wasn't as though they had all agreed not to discuss it; they all seemed to have a tacit understanding: acknowledging death was as good as inviting it. They'd deal with death as it came. _If_ it came. Tony had no intention of letting any of the team die, even if it meant giving up on early retirement, to Pepper's inevitable chagrin.

Tony couldn't imagine outliving everyone and he wasn't sure he wanted to. He takes another long swig of his beverage and doesn't say anything for a long moment. "How old are you?" he asks. It seemed like another one of those questions he should have asked before now, but didn't.

"Almost 1500." Thor drains his glass again, refills Tony's and then his own.

"You don't look a day over 30," Tony quips, feeling strangely insecure. That insecurity, as usual, doesn't make it to his face. He'd mastered the art of the poker face quite early in his years; it gave most people the impression that he didn't really care about anything. Most days, though, he found himself trying to stave off those feelings of caring too much; all too often his feelings managed to burst through the mental wall he had so carefully constructed. When that happened, there was no rhyme or reason to what stayed trapped inside and what rose to the surface.

Logically, Tony knew there was no good reason for him to envy the God of Thunder's obvious youth, yet here he was, comparing his 43-year old body to Thor's much younger-looking one. Tony could rationalize most anything, but he couldn't rationalize this.

"Perhaps not," Thor says agreebly, taking a sip of his drink. A comfortable silence settles between them and for a second, Tony considers opening his mouth to say something to fill it. Before he can, Thor speaks again.

"You know, I never gave the matter of my age much thought before I made friends here," he says, looking down at the glass in his hand. Thor tilts the glass as he looks at it and the ice cubes clink against one another as they shift inside of it. "I feel a lot older than I used to."

Tony raises his beverage to his lips. "Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?" he asks, as he takes another sip.

"I feel like I've wasted far too much time. Say what people will about humans, but they change and adapt very quickly. Asgard and her Asgardians? We don't change easily at all."

"You don't think you've changed?" Tony definitely thinks he's changed. Especially after chatting with him the last two hours.

"I do, but I feel like I should have changed long before now."

Tony makes a little sound of acknowledgement, as he often does when he's not really sure what to say. "So the disguise," he says instead. "Your current mountain man getup might be good enough if we get you a hat. Cowboy hat. Maybe we should get you a jacket or something, too -- something bulky so people can't really see your arms." Tony surveys Thor with a critical eye. 

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Dial Pepper."

\--

"You know, you didn't need to do this."

Thor's blue jeans had been swapped out for black ones that were more form-fitting than the ones he had been wearing earlier. The flannel had been traded in for a Led Zepplin tee; the design was partially obscured by the puffy red jacket he wore over it -- which true to Tony's intention, hid the girth of his arms. His sensible sneakers had been traded in for a pair of red converse high-tops. Thor's hair, pulled back in a messy bun peeks out of the back of a dark gray baseball cap, in the empty space just above the closure. 

"I know. Turn around," Tony says, twirling a finger.

Thor complies. "These pants are too tight," he complains.

"No, I'd say they're just right," Tony assesses. "What do you think, Pepper?"

Pepper shifts where she stands, surveying Thor with a discerning eye. "They _do_ look tight."

"That's not what I'm talking about. I needed your opinion on the outfit. Would you recognize him, as is, right now?"

Pepper frowns, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if giving the question serious consideration. "No, probably not. But that'd be entirely dependent upon whether or not I recognized you. If one of you is outed, it won't take very long for anyone else to recognize the other."

Tony snaps his fingers. "Exactly what I thought."

"So where's _your_ disguise?" Pepper asks.

Tony opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Thor interrupts. "You may wear my flannel."

Tony and Pepper turn to look at him in unison. Tony opens his mouth again and makes a little strangling noise as he struggles to push out the words. This time, it's Pepper's turn to interrupt.

"It's not a bad idea," she assesses. "I don't think anyone would expect to see you wearing flannel."

"That's because it's a fashion _don't_ ," Tony says firmly. Thor shoots him a confused look. 

"For me, not for anyone else," he adds before there's an argument. "Skinny jeans, yes. T-shirts, yes. Oversized Flannel? No."

"What is your greater priority?" Thor asks. "Do you prefer to look a certain way, or enjoy my company in public?"

Tony sulks. Thor has a point and he doesn't like it.

"At least try it on," Pepper says encouragingly. "It's not like you can't take it off."

"I can't pull it off, either," Tony insists. 

Thor looks past Tony over at Pepper. "I will go grab one of my spares," he tells her. He immediately heads for the door, like a man on a mission. It's not until the glass doors shut behind him with a low mechanical whir that Tony turns to Pepper.

"So my opinion doesn't matter here." 

"Not today, I'm afraid," Pepper says. "But it's not every day that the God of Thunder shows up at your place wanting to spend the day with you, either."

Tony is willing to concede that Pepper has a point. That doesn't stop him from grumbling about it.

"I think it's good for you to get out of the Tower every once in awhile," she says. 

"Used to get out of the tower all the time," he says shortly. 

" _Used to_ ," Pepper repeats.

" _Used to_ ," he confirms. "I'm finally settling down, like you've always wanted me to."

"You're turning my words against me," Pepper says. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Tony glances at the doors, then looks back over at Pepper. He doesn't say anything.

"I don't want you putting your life on the line, Tony," Pepper says. She steps towards him and tugs at the lapel of his blazer, straightening out some imaginary wrinkles. "There's plenty of people out there that are --"

"Better at this than I am?" he interrupts.

Pepper _looks_ at Tony, her hands holding the fabric taut. "You're picking a fight."

"I'm not."

Pepper lets go of the fabric. "I'm not going to be goaded."

"I'm not goading."

Pepper turns and heads for the door, her heels click-clacking steadily against the smooth stone flooring. "Hope you come back tonight in a better mood than you are now."

The doors close behind her.

Thor shows up five minutes later with a blue flannel shirt.

Tony puts it on without protest.

\--

"Does it hurt?"

For a second, Tony's not sure he heard Thor correctly. Between the Led Zepplin blaring from the speakers of his red convertible and the roar of the wind, it wasn't exactly implausible he may have misheard him. "What?"

Thor taps a finger to his own chest, right where the arc reactor would have been. "Does it hurt?" he says louder.

Tony looks at him and deliberates whether or not he wants to continue pretending that he didn't hear him. Before he can decide, Thor's hand moves away from his chest and points to the road. Tony turns and sure enough, the car is edging across the double line in the road’s center. Tony rights the vehicle. 

Thor chuckles to himself. "Not as bad as Jane."

"What?" Tony has to make a concerted effort to keep his eye on the road.

Thor presses down on the screen of his car's audio system; the bar on the screen grows progressively smaller. Thor might not be familiar with _Midgardian technology_ , but he definitely had a much easier time figuring it out than Rogers did. Only once the sound has been sufficiently lowered does he turn to Tony and speak again. "She's the worst pilot I've met in all the realms," he says, smiling fondly.

Tony is relieved at the change of topic. It's far easier when someone else does the heavy lifting for him. He's about to open his mouth and say something about how _they don't call them pilots here, they call them drivers_ when Thor interrupts him.

"It looks like it hurt," Thor says. "I saw it while you were changing."

So much for that. "Do you even _feel_ pain? I thought Asgardians weren't built for that."

"We do," he says. "We just withstand it better than humans."

Tony briefly looks away from the road to cast a dubious look at Thor.

"During the Battle of New York. I was injured, was I not?" Thor asks.

"You didn't act like it."

"When my brother stabbed me --"

"When your brother _stabbed you_?" Tony has no idea how he's supposed to keep his eyes on the road when Thor keeps saying things like this. He's wracking his brain trying to remember if he even saw the wound. True enough, he hadn't exactly been steady on his feet after falling from a giant space portal in the sky and almost dying, but a stab wound seemed like one of those things you'd notice during the post-battle revels.

If anyone could call that quiet meal at Shawarma Palace a "post-battle revel". 

"Yes, many, many times," Thor answers easily.

Tony just laughs to himself, incredulous, and shakes his head. "Seriously?"

"I'm very serious."

Tony wets his lips and shifts gears and speeds past a beat-up Volvo. "That -- _that's_ not normal. That's not normal on Earth -- is it normal on Asgard?" No wonder Asgard had top-of-the-line medical care. Their healers probably worked overtime tending to the needs of the royal family alone. 

Thor has always been the one member of the Avengers that Tony could count to wear his heart on his sleeve. Tony is pretty sure subtlety and subterfuge aren't words in his dictionary. So when Thor pauses for the slightest of moments before answering, Tony _notices_.

"I suppose not," Thor says quietly. He offers Tony a slight smile. "But I don't think anyone would call either of our lives _normal_."

Thor had a point there. 

"You are avoiding the question, though."

Tony attempts to feign ignorance. "The question? What question?"

"About..." Thor taps his chest again. 

Tony can feel Thor's intense gaze on him without even looking at him. 

"Not really," Tony says. It's an honest answer. "It did for the first four, five weeks, but I'm about back to normal." Tony turns on the blinker. "Probably not nearly as much of a problem with your _Asgardian physiology._ "

"We heal remarkably fast compared to most species of the galaxy," Thor admits. "Whatever pain we feel from being injured generally does not last long, provided we're allowed sufficient time to heal."

“What’s sufficient time, exactly?”

"Depends on the severity of the wound," Thor says. "For minor injuries, like those I sustained during Loki's attack on Earth, probably a few hours."

Tony shoots Thor a _look_. "'Minor injuries'?" Tony had almost died during that battle. "You do realize what we all looked like after that fight, right?" 

"I have endured far worse than that," he says, smiling. Tony wonders how he can say something like that with a smile. Every time someone brought up the Battle of Manhattan, Tony’s lips pulled into a frown before he could so much as make the effort to stop it. "My Asgardian physiology ensures that I am able to take as much as a dish out." 

_Dish out_. Tony can't imagine that that was a turn of phrase they used on Asgard, but Thor had clearly spent enough time on Earth to pick up their colloquialisms. At any rate, he was doing a better job of it than Rogers was.Thor had once used _swole_ correctly in a sentence and rendered Tony speechless for a full ten seconds, until he explained he learned the word from his girlfriend's intern, who used the term to describe _him_.

_Swole_ seemed to be one of those words that described Thor perfectly. Swole and "built like a tank", probably. That's what Tony was getting from this conversation, anyway.

"I do _not_ want to know what kind of battles you're going to," he says. It's hard for him to imagine anything much worse than Manhattan, but it was also pretty hard for him, a practicing atheist, to swallow the idea that Gods were real, too. Once two of them surfaced in New Mexico, he had no choice but to accept it as a part of his increasingly strange reality. "I'm guessing the fast healing explains the lack of scars."

"It does," Thor says. "It is rare for Asgardians to be wounded so badly. Fandral received his first scar only during our melee with the frost giants a few years ago."

_Of course there were frost giants._

"Our soft human bodies are not nearly as durable," Tony says.

"That is precisely why I'm worried."

Tony glances over at Thor. He certainly looks the part with the furrowed brow and that slight frown. It was the kind of brooding, concerned expression that would probably make Thor's considerable legion of fans swoon at a look. "They might not be your Asgardian healers, but I had the best doctors in the world working on me. My ticker? Fine. Me? Also fine."

Thor's expression shifts to something more doubtful. "Then why retire?"

Tony sighs. "It's a lot more complicated than my squishy human body."

Thor blinks in response. "What is it, then?"

"It's too much to go into for a car ride," Tony says. He wants out of this chat and that seems like the easiest excuse. "Besides, we're about to hit our destination."

"Where is that?"

"Someplace no one is ever going to expect to find us."

\--

Tony sits at the lane computer, tapping in their chosen pseudonyms. The screen is frequently, frustratingly unresponsive, and Tony has to jam his finger against the on-screen keyboard multiple times before it actually registers the touch. Slowly, yet surely their pseudonyms appear on the screen overhead. Feman, a spur-of-the-moment choice by Tony, and Point Break, an old classic for Thor. The screen overhead plays an animation of a bowling ball exploding with a comic book-esque flash, the words **Let's Play** popping out of the resulting cloudburst.

Tony looks over at Thor, sitting behind him. He's struggling to squeeze his feet into a pair of bowling shoes that are a half-size too small for him. There's not much Tony can do for there; Thor's feet were almost as tremendous as his muscles, and the only bowling shoes the alley had that were close to fitting him were still too small. Despite it, the God of Thunder offers no protest as he somehow manages to pull the back of the shoe over his socked heel. In fact, his face lights up with unmistakable triumph, as if he had just downed a particularly formidable enemy in battle.

Tony can't help but smile at that. Thor was a tried and true weirdo through and through, but there were moments like this where he found his quirks strangely endearing. Tony isn't sure if it's the culture clash or Thor's personality, but he has something that no one else in the Avengers has. Whatever that thing is, Tony can't seem to put his finger on it.  
.  
"You bowl before?" Tony asks as Thor laces up his shoes.

"Of course," Thor says over the loud, distant crack of a bowling ball striking pins.

"A lot?"

"Just once." Thor rises to his feet, shifting uncomfortably where he stands. "Don't underestimate me because I lack experience."

Tony starts making his way to the ball return, their balls of choice deposited there before they swapped shoes. "Not planning on it, Lebowski." Tony slips his hands into his bowling ball -- it's bright pink with a marble printing. "Watch me. I'll show you how it's done."

Tony couldn't have picked a better place for the two of them to blend in. The bowling alley was a relic of the past and hadn't been renovated in at least two decades. Midday during the school year meant the handful of people that occupied the place were a disinterested 20-something who took Tony's cash and supplied them each with a pair of run-down shoes and a gaggle of retirees that had settled on the other side of the alley. If anyone had recognized them in their oversized flannel and puffy jacket, they hadn't given any indication. The kid working the register was already tapping furiously on his cell phone and the retirees cheered each other on loudly every time one of them managed a strike.

Tony glances at them as he approaches the foul line and wonders if that'll ever be him and the Avengers one day. It doesn't take time for him to reach his conclusion: if he even lived long enough to enter that kind of easy retirement, he had serious doubts he could (or would) be able to cajole most of the other Avengers into a bowling session. Thor, though? 

Thor was a special exception. 

With perfect form, Tony swings his arm back and lets the ball hit the ground; it swiftly glides towards the pins, knocking all of them -- save one -- with a clatter. Tony turns and smirks at Thor as he strides back over to the ball return and waits.

"An excellent start," Thor says and Tony preens at the compliment. His satisfaction is short-lived, though, when Thor opens his mouth. "Not perfect, though."

"This," Tony pronounces, directing a finger at Thor. "Is just a warmup. I told you before, I'm not going to go easy on you."

Thor says nothing, but smiles smugly. Tony scowls and turns just as the bowling ball returns to the rack. He shoves his fingers through the hole, and storms up to the line. His annoyance affects his performance; he knows the moment he releases the ball that his form was off. He watches as the ball rolls towards the end of the lane. His breath catches briefly in his throat as it approaches his target -- and true enough, in spite of his less-than-stellar form, the ball still knocks the final pin over.

In an instant, Tony Stark reverts to his former self; the smug, self-satisfied grin he wore resurfaces as he strides back towards the concourse. Tony spins around, hands on hips, to watch the animation on the screen overhead play. A ball rolls towards one final pin, knocks it over, and **SPARE!** lights up the screen in bright red letters. 

“Good work.” Thor gives Tony an encouraging pat on the back as he passes him on the way to the ball return. He slips his fingers into the holes of the ball and approaches the lane line with an easy stride.

Tony watches him attentively as Thor’s arm arcs backwards and then forwards; the ball hits the lane floor and races towards the pins. When the ball finally reaches the end of the lane, it strikes the pins with an audible crack, falling every single one of the pins.

He offers Tony a little smile as he turns back around, and Tony has to fight back a frown. Tony himself isn’t sure why he’s taking this loss so personally; the two of them were both competitive personalities, but rationally, his response didn’t make any sense. Tony forces himself to look up at the **STRIKE** screen animation just so he doesn’t have to look at Thor.

Thor stops beside him, looks up at the screen, then sets a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “What is troubling you?”

Tony had been avoiding Thor’s gaze, but now he can’t help but look at him. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Something is wrong,” Thor insists.

“Nothing,” Tony says, letting the word hang there for added emphasis. “Is wrong. We’re not having this conversation.”

“The conversation about how nothing is wrong?”

“Exactly the one,” Tony quips. The words come out easily, but he’s starting to feel like a cat cornered.

“If you do not want to speak of it, then I shall not press any further,” Thor says, his expression softening. “I merely hope that you find someone to confide in when the time is right.”

Tony stares up at Thor, uncomprehending. How can this guy manage to say these things with a straight face? With a sigh, Tony plops down in one of the worn lane chairs, folds one leg over the other, and leans his head back to stare up at the ceiling. 

Thor tentatively sits next to him, places his hands down on his knees, and watches Tony carefully. The weight of his gaze is heavy enough that the pressure forces him open, the way a hand might when pressed against the center of a bag of air-filled potato chips.

“You’re not going to get it,” Tony decides.

“Not going to get what?”

“It,” he says, as if that explains everything. “You’re not going to get _it_. You,” Tony directs a finger at Thor, “came out of the womb as some _divine being_. They call you a god and they don’t call you that for nothing.”

Thor blinks, but says nothing. Tony feels an intense prickling at the back of his neck.

“Everything comes so easily to you. I’m not talking about the cooking or the bowling or the _sensitive guy routine_ , either. The super-strength, the super-toughness, your whole _lightning thing in general_ \--” Tony waves a hand at Thor. “-- _that’s a part of you_. That’s who you are. When you were born, you had those things. The rest of us, the mortals, the normal guys who don’t have the option of rebirth via super serum? We had to fight for it. And once we have it, it can be taken away at a moment’s notice and we’re _powerless to stop it_.”

The second Tony blurts it out, he regrets it, as he often does after sudden displays of emotion. Every time he looks back on moments like these, he’s reminded exactly why he doesn’t share anything, really, with anyone. Most people, Tony imagines, probably have adult conversations where they explain their feelings in calmer, more rational terms. Tony on the other hand spent most of his adolescence with a father whose understanding of the word _restraint_ flew out the window the moment Tony dared to argue with him. 

It was no wonder he was so utterly helpless at expressing himself now.

“Look, nevermi--”

“I thought you knew.” Thor says is so quickly that he clips off the last half of Tony’s _nevermind_.

“What?” Tony twists to look at him.

“How I wound up on Earth,” Thor answers. He frowns. “SHIELD didn’t tell you?”

Tony isn’t exactly sure where Thor is going with this, but if Thor was hoping to pique his interest, he definitely had it now. “I’m pretty sure SHIELD doesn’t tell anyone anything.”

“When I arrived here, I had been stripped of my powers and banished to Earth from Asgard by my father. Until I proved myself of Mjolnir once more, I was functionally mortal.”

There’s a pause there, and Tony fills the momentary silence with a single “Oh” of acknowledgement.

“It was very difficult,” he continues. “I could summon lightning ever since I was little, but I could not so much as render a single spark. I had always been the strongest of all of my friends, but the mortal strength I had was eclipsed by even my brother. My body didn’t quite feel like my own. For the first time in my life, I felt weak and powerless and I did not know what to do.”

Thor offers him a soft smile, the kind Tony is sure would make most teenagers weak in the knees. “But I suppose because of it, I realized that even without power, I was not actually powerless. There were still ways of protecting others that did not require lightning or weapon or strength. All that was truly required was the courage to do whatever I needed to in order to make things right, even when the odds were impossible.” Thor dampens his lips. “You will have your own journey to go through before you reach that place and you will have my support for as long as it takes to arrive there and beyond it.”

Tony feels the unfamiliar heat of embarrassment in his face and he does not know what to say. He’s sure Thor is right, but none of that makes him feel any less powerless right now. What use did the Avengers have for someone who couldn’t actually fight? He had serious doubts he could convince a Hydra agent to turn over an ancient, all-powerful artifact or talk down the next intergalactic threat -- least of all in a body with no armor and a chest with no arc reactor in it.

He couldn’t protect anyone like this.

Tony gives Thor a pat on the arm. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s finish our game.”

\--

The top to the convertible is up when they start the ride back to the facility, but the passenger side window is down. Thor’s feet, still red with marks from where the shoes cut into them are propped up on the window’s edge. 

Thor sighs contentedly. 

“So,” Tony begins, briefly taking his eyes off the road to look at Thor. His eyes are closed, but he’s pretty sure he hasn’t fallen asleep yet. “Getting back to our earlier conversation. What exactly happened in London?”

“It is complicated.”

Tony makes a clicking noise with his mouth. “Don’t use my own words against me.”

“It is too much to go into for a car ride.”

“We’re not even close to the facility,” Tony complains. “If it’s as complicated as you say it is, just give me the Cliff Notes, then.”

“The what?”

Tony should have known he wouldn’t get the reference; he’s pretty sure most kids these days wouldn’t get it. “Just give me the abbreviated version.”

Thor lets out a hum. “Every five thousand years, a cosmic event called the Converge occurs. During this time, portals that connect all Nine Realms are opened. The Dark Elves planned to use this vulnerability to unleash a power called the Aether and destroy the entire galaxy.”

“Seriously?” Tony shoots Thor an incredulous look. 

“I’m very serious,” Thor says, eyes still closed.

“Was that just a normal day in the life of Thor, Son of Odin?”

“Not quite, but there is plenty of fighting.”

“Things not so idyllic in Asgard?”

“Idyllic in Asgard, yes, but not always in the rest of the realms, or the other worlds under the All-Father’s protection.”

“So, you’re off protecting a bunch of other realms when you’re not protecting Earth.”

Thor smiles. “Something like that.”

“But not threats like Loki or the dark elves. Like _planet-ruining_ threats.” 

“Not usually, no.”

“Minor threats, then.” 

“Minor threats,” Thor confirms with a yawn.

Tony’s not sure why he’s pushing the point. If there was any Avenger who could handle all this, it’d be Thor. The guy was stabbed by his own brother and kept on moving; this stuff had to be child’s play to him.

But this knowledge did little to ebb his concern. The idea that Thor might might die on some far-off distant planet and he’d never know about it is unnerving to the extreme. 

Tony suddenly has tremendous sympathy for Jane Foster.

“You’re not combating these _minor threats_ by yourself, are you?”

“No, usually I’m with Sif and the Warriors Three.”

Tony shifts gears and the car speeds up. “So you have your own team back home.”

Thor lets out a sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a hum. “Yes. They are not quite the Avengers, but they are some of my closest friends.”

Tony wants to resist the urge to ask it, but there’s no fighting the impulse. “And what about us?”

“Friends too.”

Tony’s not sure what to make of the answer; Thor seems like the sort of person who would call people _friend_ too easily. Tony, on the other hand, wasn’t sure he considered any of the other Avengers _friends_ , save maybe Bruce. Colleagues? Yes. Teammates? Yes to that, too. But friends? _Not really._

Tony isn’t entirely sure _where_ Thor fits in that picture. He definitely can’t see him as a colleague or a teammate anymore, but is he prepared to call him _friend_? 

Tony glances over at Thor and when he does, he finds the other man is fast asleep. 

Tony has no idea how he’s going to get him inside.

\--

Thor can _sleep_.

Tony hasn’t slept well in a long time. Even before the Battle of New York, he’d bolt up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, remembering those days he spent in a cave; eventually, though, those memories were eclipsed by newer, stronger ones. Portals like the ones in New York opened over every major US city and aliens poured out. Much as he’d try, there was no taking them on. When he still had the arc reactor, he would at least try and die fighting; after the surgery, though, his dreams latched onto this new anxiety and ran with it. The portals would open, but this time, he wouldn’t be able to fight. He would just die without ever being able to.

Thor clearly didn’t have those hangups. He has been sleeping in the car for over two hours with his feet propped out of the window and the seat fully upright and still has shown no signs of waking. Tony, on the other hand, can’t remember the last time he fell asleep on a flight without the help of a sleep aid. Tony tried shoving Thor awake a few times when they arrived back at the facility, but when he failed to respond, he resolved to sit in the car with him until he finally woke up. 

Tony stares up the roof of his convertible, presses the button to withdraw the roof, and stares up at the sky. It’s sunset now, and the sky is a blue-purple-orange gradient. 

One day very nearly down, and the day somehow managed to feel both long and short at the same time. Sure, there are still a few free days ahead for the both of them, but what after that? Would Thor go off again to one of his other realms and disappear for a year again? Spend all his moments on Earth with Jane? Tony isn’t sure, but he doesn’t like the thought of it.

Thor lets out a little snort as he wakes; he rouses slowly, his eyes still heavy-lidded. He pulls off his baseball cap and runs a hand through his hair.

“Awake now, Sleeping Beauty?” 

Thor lets out a tremendous yawn. “Yes,” he says. “I had a dream and you were in it.”

“Good dream, I hope?”

“A very good dream.” Thor’s voice is hoarse with sleep.

Tony wonders what kind of dream Thor could be having, but decides not to ask, curiosity be damned. “Let’s get you inside and get you dinner.”

“Tony.” The sound of his name is enough to jerk him to attention. It’s the first time Thor’s called him by his first name. Bruce was the only other member of their little team that’s ever called him that. “I want to know why you gave it up.”

“Pepper.” Though Tony would have rathered he said something glib or avoided giving an answer altogether, the answer’s out of his mouth before he can stop it. He takes a breath, his voice quieter now. “I’m doing it for Pepper.”

Thor hums softly at that and Tony’s not sure if he’ll remember any of this when he’s fully cognizant. He’d be grateful if he didn’t. A silence rests between them. Tony opens his mouth to reiterate his point about dinner, but before he can, Thor speaks. 

“She is what is most important to you.”

Tony swallows. He thinks of the Avengers, and then of Earth and all the people on it. When he gives his answer, he can’t be sure if it’s true, but it definitely feels right.

“Yeah.”

“Then I will protect Earth in your stead.” The words come out without any hesitation, and they, like the sound of his given name, catch him entirely off-guard.

Tony lets out a choked, disbelieving laugh. “You’re seriously not awake.”

“I assure you, I am very,” Thor says, sleepily.

“Don’t you have enough realms to worry about?” Tony doesn’t know why he’s arguing, but he’s doing it anyway. “What is it? Seven? Eight?”

“Nine, and it is my responsibility to protect them all.”

“Earth has the Avengers.”

“And I am one of them,” Thor says, straightening in his seat. Thor looks at Tony, his gaze steady upon the other man’s face. “I have protected Earth for many years and I will protect it for many years to come. I have far more years left in me than you do. Please. Let me protect Earth in your place so you can protect what’s most important to you.”

There’s something unsaid there that Tony can’t quite put his finger on. Normally he’s able to get a good read on what’s in between the lines, but he has nothing to draw from. 

“Okay,” he says, finally. It, too, feels like the right thing to say. “But only just for now.”

Thor’s brows furrow.

“I’ve been working on a new project,” he begins. “Something to keep me preoccupied since I got out of surgery. It’s just, uh, been percolating for the time being, but it’s time to give it less thought and more action.”

“What?”

“My big dream,” Tony says. “It’s not going to be easy. Every time I come back to it, I’m not even sure where to start. It’s been driving me crazy ever since I came up with it.” It was that frustration that kept him from doing anything more than just _thinking_ about it; he had plenty of irritants in his life right now without adding another one. “If I pull it off, we won’t need the Avengers anymore. And you --” Tony directs a finger at Thor. “-- will have plenty of time to worry about your other realms. The ones that _don’t_ have the Avengers.”

“Is that so?”

“Verily,” Tony says. “Maybe then you’ll have more time to focus on what’s important to you. It can’t be all the realms all the time.”

Thor attempts a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his face. “No, it can’t be.”

Tony doesn’t remark upon his friend’s answer. Instead, he gives Thor a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Good. Now let’s get this top up and get inside.”

\--

When Tony wakes up the next day, Thor’s already gone. A simple thank-you note, some leftover curry packed in neatly-stacked tupperware in the fridge, and a forgotten blue flannel shirt are the only proof he was here at all. The first thing he thinks to do is to dial Jane.

"Yeah, he got here about two hours ago. He's out grabbing groceries. Is everything all right?"

"Nothing wrong," Tony says. He looks around his lab for something to mess around with and settles for a stress ball on one of his tables. He gives it a few firm squeezes, tosses it into the air, and catches it. "Just wanted to make sure he got back safe and sound."

"Back and safe and sound," Jane confirms. "Thor told me he had a good time. He beat you at bowling?"

"He had an unfair advantage."

Jane laughs at that. Their laughs sound nothing alike, but he's suddenly reminded of Pepper. "That's not what he said."

"Of course he didn't," Tony says. "Tell ET to phone home every now and then. It's been ages since anyone's seen him."

"If I could, I would." There's a pause there, and Tony senses there's still something Jane wants to say, so he waits until she says it. "Thank you for doing this.”

Tony gives the stress ball another squeeze. “For what?”

“Keeping him entertained while I was out,” she says. “He’s kind of had a lot going on lately. I wanted him to come with me, but then he refused and I really didn’t want him staying home alone.”

“He said something about that. Loki, right?”

Tony can hear Jane hesitate. “He didn’t tell you?”

“He told me about Loki.”

“He didn’t tell you about his mother?”

Tony takes a seat for this; he can tell from the way Jane says it that he’s not going to like the answer. “No,” he says tentatively. “What happened with his mother?”

“So you know the dark elves? The ones in London?”

Tony makes a noise to the affirmative.

“They assaulted the palace on Asgard and killed his mother,” she says. “The day after that, he and his father fought. _Again_.” Jane lets out a nervous little laugh. “They were basically at odds the whole time I was there. He wanted to... I don’t know, he wanted the dark elves to come at Asgard. Thor wanted to draw them away, to keep Asgard safe. So after the funeral, he took Loki and Sif and the Warriors Three and they tried to do that, but then Loki died and --” Something audibly catches in Jane’s throat. “I mean, I guess the rest is history. Everything in London happened basically right afterwards, and then he ended up blaming himself for that, too, because he never intended for Earth to be harmed, but...”

Jane trails off, then takes a breath. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell you that,” she says again.

“Why can’t you believe it?” Tony’s words come out far more clipped than he intended them to, but he finds himself irrationally irritated that Thor kept all this from him. He can hardly talk; he didn’t divulge much of anything to anyone, but he had laid it all on the table this time. He expected that maybe Thor would do the same.

“Because,” Jane says, “he really likes you. I’m pretty sure you’re his favorite. It’s always _Tony, this!_ and _Tony, that!_ ”

“ _What?_ ”

“He told me the whole story about how the two of you met about a thousand times,” she says. “I got tired of hearing it really fast.”

Tony chuckles at that. “Yeah,” he says fondly. 

“Maybe I’m wrong, but I always got the feeling you liked him, too. You’re the only one who ever calls to check in on him, even though he’s never here.”

“I’d call him direct, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a cell phone.” Tony spins around in the chair and tosses the ball again.

“No, and knowing him, he’d probably break or lose it in the first ten minutes,” she says, laughing.

“Probably,” Tony agrees. “Maybe I’ll funnel some of that _Stark research money_ into phone tech. Build a phone that even a god can’t destroy.”

“Well, it’d make a great tagline.”

A silence settles between them and it feels like the right time to end the conversation. “Tell him to call me when he gets back,” he says. “And tell him he left a shirt here. He needs to come pick it up.”

“I will. Thanks again, Tony.”

Tony disconnects the call, sets the phone back on the table, leans back in the chair, and looks up at the ceiling. There’s something up there on the tile: either some mark he failed to notice before now or a spider-web and it’s driving him mad just looking at it. 

Jane. Thor. Those two were maddeningly cute together. He could tell, even through her annoyance when he called and Thor wasn’t there, that she was crazy about him. And Thor was crazy about her. He didn’t learn how to cook for nothing. And clearly, most important of all, they talked about things. Not just the stupid things, either. _Everything_. Good _and_ bad. 

Tony can stand to take a page from Thor’s playbook. He snatches the phone, then sets it back down. He stares over at it, then picks it up again. This time, he leaves the stress ball in its place. 

**Sorry about yesterday. Dinner at 7?**

Pepper’s answer comes a moment later:

**Sure.**

**Author's Note:**

> This one was a long time coming, and I didn't think that I was ever going to finish it. Thanks to Marzipanda, Duc, Lia, and all the members of the Thor Discord for their assistance and encouragement along the way. 
> 
> This may end up being part one of a series, so if you like it, leave a comment or a kudos. Thanks for reading!


End file.
